Secrets
by Scarlet Moons
Summary: Harry is hiding something, but it's not just any secret-it's a secret so big that revelation would result in life changing events. He's been able to keep it in the dark for five years now, but when the Slytherin Prince and heir to the house of Malfoy begins to act strangely around him, Harry begins to worry that he has somehow worked out his secret. Creature! and Fem!Harry fic
1. Chapter One: I don't hit girls, Potter

A/N: **Reader: Scarlet, do you not have other stories that need your attention?**

 **Me: Um, yes?  
**

 **Reader: Then why the new story if you're so busy?**

 **Well, thank you for asking. This is a story that I've actually been slowly working on for a while now. Yes, I do realize that I have other stories that need my undivided attention, but there's just no spark for them at the moment. It's so hard to write for something you have no inspiration for. I did a trial run of this story on an account I share with a friend in order to see if my efforts were all for naught, but it seemed to be well receipted so I thought, why the heck not? This is a story that I'm inspired to write and something that I _want_ to write. **

**My other stories will be updated as well, most likely soon seeing as the winter holidays are approaching us. Some of my stories are under revision and others are slowly being added to. I hope to finish them up soon as some are nearing their end.**

 **I hope you enjoy the concept of this story :)**

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 _Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
_

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Secrets

Chapter One:  
"I don't hit girls, Potter."

11/28/16  
 **_**

* * *

 _"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities._ "  
-Albus Dumbledore

* * *

Secrets often tend to be dark things.

Often times they are revealed.

Either they lead to a happy ending or a miserable turn of events.

It can be stated, whether big or small, that everyone has a secret that they prefer to keep hidden. Only that person can ever know the reason behind it, but everyone knows that no one wants their darkest secret to be revealed to the light.

Some secrets are small.

Others can make your life a misery.

There was a secret that none other than Harry knew- a secret so mysterious that the thought of anyone finding out caused a brief pause in the rhythm of his beating heart.

He would often find himself lying upon his bed, late at night, wandering through the depths of his dilemma.

His secret was dangerous. If it were to be revealed to anyone, his life would take a drastic turn for the worst. Not even Voldemort could expect the mystery that Harry held.

It was a surprise that he had made it this far in secrecy. Not only had he hid it well, but it was a secret that no one could ever possibly expect. The secret was such a heavy burden and Harry often found himself wondering at times how much longer he could handle its weight.

It left him restless, forcing him to toss and turn at night.

Tonight, was one of those nights.

Harry growled, unable to take it anymore as he threw the suffocating hot blanket away from his flushed body.

It was one of those nights.

A night that he wished that everyone knew of his secret-a night where he was so ready to scream the revelations out to the entire school. It was a night that he was most vulnerable to discovery.

He raised a shaky hand to rest upon his chest, wincing as his palm brushed against the cloth that overlay the tightly bound bandage. Not once was his chest alleviated of the constant ache that had developed the day before. His legs shifted as a shuddering sigh left his body.

Nights like these were the absolute worst.

Nothing could be done lest a clue to his secret be uncovered.

Harry let his head roll to the side where his eyes found his best friend slumbering only feet away in the bed next to his. All the boys in the dormitory were sound asleep save for Harry.

Harry laughed at the thought, noting the irony.

All the boys were indeed asleep.

Every. Single. One.

Harry slowly pushed himself into a seated position, leaning back to rest against the headboard. His lower abdomen was throwing a celebratory going away party and his muscles' restless movement left him moaning softly in pain.

Quickly deciding on a trip to the loo, Harry stealthily moved to the edge of his bed, stopping only once to cringe as the rickety springs squeaked in protest. Upon standing, Harry winced as the laws of gravity took hold and everything that was sitting suddenly remembered which way was down.

His fear of his secret leaking kept him from going to Madam Pomfrey and he found himself left to deal with the consequences that came with that sacred decision.

Tiptoeing to the bathroom was relatively easy. The teenage boys slept soundly, undisturbed by the slightest of noises.

Softly closing the door behind him, Harry made sure to lock it with a small charm that thorough research had provided him with. It wouldn't do for a simple Alohomora to be the cause his secret being revealed.

Finally alone and locked away safely in the darkened bathroom, Harry suddenly felt at ease. He was away from prying eyes.

Quickly, as if on fire, Harry tugged his shirt up and practically ripped it away from his body. His chest was heaving from the anticipation of what was to come.

Shaking hands fumbled with the pin that held the wrappings. A muttered curse slipped through clenched teeth as Harry failed to undo the clasp.

A small, whispered cry of victory left his lips as the pin gave way and the edge of the bandage fell. There seemed to be no quicker way to remove the wrapped cloth than pulling and pushing it away from his sore and abused chest.

The wrappings gave and soon Harry found himself almost crying out in relief as his hidden bosom was revealed to the world. Gentle hands roamed and caressed, softly massaging the tender flesh.

Dusty pink nipples were erect in the chilled air and the slightest touch had Harry whimpering.

From the corner of his eye, Harry caught himself in the mirror. Curious, he turned, revealing the front of his naked torso to the replica in the looking glass. Emerald pools behind rimmed glasses peered back curiously, as if asking him why he was suddenly staring.

It was nothing to behold really, but from this angle, his secret was revealed to the world.

They were the largest A-cup at best, hardly even a B, but Harry knew that years of malnutrition and poorly constructed bras had led to their demise.

He was grateful, however, for their size, in the aspect that his secret could be well hidden and the slightest charm could allow himself to be seen topless.

They were small, yet they revealed his secret to anyone who could sneak a peek.

They were her secret.

They were swollen, ripe in their prime. In their tender state, the tightly bound wrapping caused her immense pain, but Harry knew there was nothing that could be done. Lest her secret be revealed, she would bare through the pain.

Already had she survived five horrid years.

Her secret was well within the dark, so well hidden that hardly anyone who looked knew it was there.

Her closest friends, Hermione and Ron, knew she was keeping something from them. However, she had no doubt that they surely thought that her secret had something to do with Voldemort and the nightmares she had been having as of late. Never would they ever suspect her of something so preposterous.

Harry honestly didn't know how she had kept this in the dark for so long.

She had never been good when it came to keeping secrets as someone always eventually found them out. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that it was the only secret that was solely hers.

Only she knew this secret.

For so long had Harry dealt with everyone knowing every detail of her personal life. For once she had something that they didn't know about.

Rather, she had two things they didn't know about.

Harry cursed. How could she have forgotten? She had left her precious cargo buried at the bottom of her trunk.

Walking carefully towards the toilets, Harry made sure to make no sudden movements. She only had one rag to last the entire night. Anymore "spillage" would result in a bloody mess; literally.

This was another thing she hated.

She didn't mind the bleeding, no. It was, after all, a natural part of life and a healthy flow often signified a healthy reproductive system. It was the messy part that she minded.

She had seen enough blood and pain in her lifetime so a menstrual cycle was nothing to cry over. It was just the mess that came with it that bothered her. The constant changing of pads and the accidental spots on her underwear did nothing to help her secret.

Girls bleed.

It was simple knowledge.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, was a man and therefore did not bleed.

Or, at least, that was what the entirety of the wizarding world thought.

Harry had been born a girl.

Her parents had apparently thought that changing the appearance of her sex would change the outcome of what was to happen.

The prophecy had been mildly gender specific and Voldemort, while a cunning Slytherin, didn't seem to notice the advanced charm that had been placed upon her. Therefore, the outcome of that night was what it was.

Harry honestly did not mind being the opposite gender of what everyone thought she was. Surprisingly, she found more often than not that she quite enjoyed being female. She had been acting as a male for so long that being herself seemed genuinely easy.

It was peaceful when she could be who she truly was, even if she and her "family" were the only ones who knew.

Her aunt knew of the spell that had been placed on her as she was the one who saw when it wore off.

Her uncle and cousin, however, knew nothing.

Her aunt had been strict about keeping her secret, constantly reminding her that this was only another sign that constituted her as being a freak. She knew her aunt held some form of guilt of her mother's death, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

It was her last favor to Lily; keeping her secret.

Harry, while unrelentingly so, was grateful to her aunt in this aspect.

Her aunt still treated her like the dirt under her feet and did nothing to soften the scathing remarks that left her mouth. To her aunt, she was her nephew-the freak.

There was nothing normal about Harry and Harry knew this.

After all, who could say that their parents spelled them to be the opposite gender to deter a madman who tried to kill her and failed, whose entire life had been a lie until she was suddenly famous in a world she didn't know existed where said madman was still trying to kill her?

Harry let out a tired sigh and looked down, only to realize that she hadn't bled as much as she had thought.

Which was good, don't get her wrong, but still messy.

She felt dirty with the thing half full.

Alas, there was nothing that could be done lest she use an actual rag and risk bleeding everywhere throughout the night.

That would be difficult to explain to the other boys who did not have a period.

Blood down there would only be seen as something seriously wrong.

Sighing, Harry reluctantly cleaned as best as she could until the situation was at least tolerable.

She headed back to bed, knowing that the cramps currently parading through her lower abdomen were calming down so she could have at least a few hours of sleep before the morning came.

* * *

It was the rowdy voices of boy that woke her up.

She groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes as the morning light peeked in through the windows.

She softly murmured an incantation under her breath, grateful for the small gift of wandless magic that she was slowly, but surely, working on accomplishing.

The change in her voice was sudden.

"Would you lot knock it off! Some of us would like to sleep in!"

"Ah, c'mon Harry! It's Valentine's Day! You, especially, should be excited for that!"

Harry groaned loudly.

How could she forget the worst day of the year where dozens of giggling girls threw themselves at her with cards, chocolates, and love potions?

She may look like a boy, but that didn't mean jack when it came to feelings and emotions.

She was a heterosexual woman disguised as a man.

Her love life was non-existent

There were, of course, the rare gay male that would show interest, but even Harry knew that going there would blow her cover. After all, how long would it be before the guy realized she didn't have the parts that he wanted?

Valentine's day was truly a miserable holiday.

Ron seemed oblivious to her discomfort as he only rubbed salt in the wound by mentioning his sister- his heterosexual sister with a crush the size of Europe. His sister who was in love with another woman and did not know it.

Harry could only feel sympathy for the poor girl and always tried to let her down gently, to get her to move on to someone who could actually return her feelings. However, each rejection seemed to only encourage the young Weasley as she took it as a sign of denial of Harry's true feelings and proclaimed that "he" was sweet in thinking that he could protect her should he not date her.

It was a known fact that most people who got too close to Harry suffered; this was another reason why the young brunette's love life did not exist.

Harry knew that her chances of love were slim to none. It was unlikely that she would survive the battle against Voldemort, more or less the same that she would ever find someone who would love her for her.

After all, how do you tell someone that the boy-who-lived is actually a girl hidden for the sake of her safety?

Most her admirers only wanted the boy for his fame. The other half only wanted him for his looks and to have the chance to say, "I dated the boy-who-lived."

Harry scoffed. "More like the girl-who-lived," she mumbled scathingly under her breath.

The dorm room was filled with a cacophony of noise as the rowdy gentlemen quite sleepily got ready for the day.

It was a Saturday, the best day of the week, but now also the worst.

Harry could only lay there, glaring blearily up at the cobbled stone ceiling. She did not want to move. However, the rumbling of her stomach brought a frown to her face. Yes, she was used to periods of going without food, but Hogwarts had brought back her appetite. After all, when free food is offered, it would be rude of her to decline.

Giving in to her stomach's desires, Harry groaned and ungracefully rolled out of the bed. Ron saw her do this and laughed.

"Harry, mate. If the girls saw you do that they'd be put off."

Harry could only spare him a glare. "Says the slob."

Ron frowned, playfully glaring. He placed a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded."

Harry narrowed her eyes at her best friend, suspicious of his cheery attitude. Normally Ron would be easily butt hurt and agitated, but today he seemed to be in good spirits, an unlikely feat for the red head.

"Are you feeling alright today?"

Ron turned to look at her, brow furrowed in a curious glance. "Alright today? Why are you asking me that?"

Harry shrugged, stretching. "You're acting awfully bright this morning. No one slipped you a pepper up potion while we were sleeping, did they?"

Ron scoffed and laughed loudly, causing Harry to wince at the brashness of his booming voice. "Harry, mate! It's Valentine's day-the day that I will finally sweep a lucky lady off her feet!"

Harry frowned, turning back to look at him as she gathered her things from her trunk. "I thought you were going to attempt and fail horribly at wooing 'Mione?"

"Ha ha. Very funny, Harry." Ron scowled, cheeks slowly turning a bright red. "Hermione doesn't like me like that, ya know? So, I thought, 'Hey! You're a handsome young chap! There are plenty of girls out there just dying to be with you!' And thus, I have devised a plan that will have all of the ladies just begging to be with me."

Harry could only shake her head, knowing full well that Ron's affections towards Hermione were requited and the poor girl would get her hopes up once again this Valentine's day. The Weasley would then make the same mistake and Harry would be left to pick up the pieces...again.

"Ron, how do you know Hermione doesn't like you? I mean, she's a complicated woman. Who knows? Maybe deep down she has a passion for redheads."

Walking past, Ron stopped to give Harry a pat on the shoulder. "Mate, I know you only want the best for everyone, but Hermione doesn't like me like that and ya know what? I don't need her to be happy. There is an entire school full of girls just waiting for me to romance them."

Harry sighed, glancing towards the window where the rays of light shone through the glass. "If you say so."

It would be another year like all the ones before. Ron would make yet another mistake and Hermione's hopes would be dashed. Honestly, men were too thick!

"Looks like Hermione and I will be spending Valentine's day alone...again." It was a quiet whisper, but it was still loud enough to send a pang through her heart.

This was the most painful day because it was the day that she was reminded of what she could and would never have. Love.

Harry waited until all the boys had pranced out of the room, all eager to start the day, to get dressed. Tired and drained already, she quickly made to change, pulling on her baggiest of clothes. If she were to wallow in self-pity and misery today, then she would do so comfortably. After all, who did she have to impress?

Grabbing her things, Harry slipped on her shoes and headed out of the door. Her hair received only a run through of a hand and her glasses perched crookedly at the edge of her nose. Today would not be a day of trying.

She moved at a sluggish pace, not enthusiastic to start the day at all. All around her was the chirpy chatter of excited students and the disgusting sound of teenagers in love. Honestly. Harry wished she could tell them all to go get a room.

Her painstakingly slow and miserable pace was only about to become even more painful when she caught a flash of platinum blond hair above the crowd.

Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, Harry slowly exhaled through her nose. She tried her best to calm herself, because today was not the day to mess with her. She was cramping, moody, and miserable. If the wrong word left his mouth, it would take all her willpower not to send his perfect body flying.

"Potter!"

Harry went rigid, stopping in mid-stride. Grumbling under her breath, she turned to glare at the owner of the voice.

And there, striding out from the crowd with an air of authority, was the bane of her existence; Draco Malfoy.

And while Harry wasn't one to deny that as a specimen, the Malfoy heir was indeed something to behold, she was inclined to despise him by the means of which he chose to act. After all, beauty was only skin deep.

However, on another level, Harry knew that there was some part of her that was thankful that the spoiled prat existed. He was the only one to treat her just as if she were any other person and did not bow down at her feet.

"Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy gave Harry his infamous smirk, coming to a stop only a mere foot away from where she stood.

"And what, pray tell, does the mighty Potter think he is doing, dressed like that on a day such as this? Honestly, Potter. You look absolutely dreadful."

Eye twitching, Harry clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes. "I know perfectly well what I look like, Malfoy. Unlike you, I don't spend three hours in front of a mirror each morning."

"Oh trust me, Potter. We all know that," Draco scoffed, causing his surrounding Slytherins to laugh. "And there's no need to make jealous assumptions. I know it's hard to believe that such beauty comes naturally when you're as hideous as a hippogriff's behind."

Harry only glared at the pompous prat that stood smirking triumphantly in front of her. Her fist clenched painfully tight by her side, aching to make contact with his smug face. All she had to do was swing and he would go down.

Instead, she took a deep breath, bit her tongue, and turned around.

"I wasn't aware that beauty was only skin deep, Malfoy. But I guess in your case, you fall short on both ends," she stated, head held high.

'I don't need a detention on a Saturday.' Harry thought as she started to walk away.

"I don't know about that. Maybe there's no hope for you after all, Potter. You couldn't see beauty if it hit you in your ugly face." He drawled, a malicious mirth laced in his voice. "The girls obviously don't want you for your looks."

Harry froze, rigid.

"Struck a nerve, did I?"

The corridor was now completely silent as a single pair of footsteps echoed off the stone walls.

"You know it too, don't you Potter." Warm breath tickled the shell of her ear. "They only want you for your fame. That's all you are to them, isn't it? Poster boy Potter."

Harry remained still, staring straight ahead.

Deep down, she knew what he said was true. After all, when Merlin was giving away looks, she got there a little too late.

Already downtrodden and miserable, Harry did the only thing that would make her feel better-she turned around and soccer punched Draco Malfoy square in the face. There was a crunch and a yell; it was satisfying.

There were gasps and whispers as Harry stood there, glaring down at the Malfoy heir who now lay on the cobbled stone floor, holding his now crooked and bleeding nose.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

And with that, she turned and began to walk away with her shoulders squared and her head held high. While she lost the battle with her temper, she felt exhilarated. The blood pumped and rushed through her veins as all the tension and misery she felt early left with that single punch.

"You'll pay for this, Potter!"

The voice was muffled and pained and Harry couldn't help but to throw her head back and laugh.

* * *

By the time she reached the Great Hall, news of what she had done reached the ears of the rest of the student body. There were whispers and long stares as she walked towards her seat, all of which she was more than used to.

The Gryffindor table, upon seeing her, erupted into cheers and shouts, congratulating her on doing the one thing they all at one point wanted to do. Harry smiled sheepishly and although she wasn't exactly proud of what she had done, she knew the prat deserved it.

She took her seat next to a giddy Ron and an irritated looking Hermione. Harry bit her lip and pretended not to notice her intelligent friend's scathing glare. She set out to slather jam upon a piece of toast and mentally prayed that the lecture would be avoided.

Alas, her prays were left unanswered.

At the rough slap on the back that left her sputtering, Harry turned to Ron who was laughing, mouth full of food. She felt queasy at the sight, but played it off as, after all, she was a male who was used to such things from her male best friend.

"Harry, mate! Is it true? Did you really hit Malfoy?"

Harry looked up and met Hermione's questioning look before quickly looking ashamedly away. She forced a laugh and nodded.

"Knocked him square down on his arse, he did!"

Harry turned to see Seamus grinning and holding two thumbs up.

"Way to go, Harry!" Ron yelled, muffled through food. "I wish I could have seen it! The look on the ferret's face must have been priceless!"

Harry forced a laugh and mumbled a quiet yeah.

"Harry! I cannot believe you! Violence has no place in the halls of Hogwarts! You, especially you, are much better than that!"

Harry's eye twitched as she looked towards her female companion who sat across from her with her arms crossed tightly and a scowl etched upon her pretty face. Now irritated at being lectured, Harry tilted her head and looked curiously at Hermione.

"I recall you doing the same thing in third year."

Hermione spluttered indignantly. "He called me a you-know-what!"

"And he called me ugly."

Hermione was left shell-shocked, mouth agape. "You punched him because he insulted your looks?! Harry, he does that every day! I didn't take you as one to be vain!"

Harry only shrugged, taking a bite of her jam covered toast. And with a mouthful of bread like the man she was, she looked thoughtfully at the toast in her hand and said, "Maybe I just felt like punching the prat."

"Harry!"

Harry looked blankly at her infuriated friend. "We all know he deserved it." She looked around and saw that the mail had yet to arrive. Thinking fast, she quickly switched the conversation topic before the lecture could continue to morals. "So how many valentines do you think you'll receive today, Hermione?"

Hermione quickly snapped her mouth shut and turned to glare at the redhead who was too busy shoveling food into his mouth to notice her scathing look. "Actually, I'm expecting only one. Theodore Nott asked me to Hogsmeade."

Suddenly choking, Harry coughed harshly, wheezing out, "Nott?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and talked loudly, leaving Harry under the suspicion that she was trying to capture the attention of Ron to make him jealous. "Yes, Nott. I wouldn't take you as a prejudice one, Harry. Yes, he is in Slytherin, but he's a good guy. I figured I'd give him a chance seeing as some people are just too dunderheaded to ask for one."

Harry, gulping down some pumpkin juice to ease the flow of food, looked quizzically at her friend. "Did he even try to this year?"

Hermione pursed her lips and looked away, telling Harry everything she needed to know.

"He's going to be furious, ya know?"

Hermione only shrugged, looking at the oblivious ginger. "I could care less. Honestly, I'm tired of chasing and dropping hints. This time, I'm not going to be the one to suffer."

Harry could only nod, knowing full well that she would get to listen to the brunt of the storm that was steadily brewing. Ron would be extra furious at the fact that it was a Slytherin that Hermione would be spending her Valentine's day with.

Oh well. Harry could only tell him that she told him so.

He had his chance and he didn't take it.

Sighing, Harry raised her cup of pumpkin juice to her lips. "I suppose it'll just be me and Hedwig this Valentine's day."

"Surely there's a nice girl you could take to Hogsmeade?"

Harry shook her head, looking up at the enchanted ceiling that was shedding sparkling flakes of snow. "I don't particularly fancy anyone this year."

"What about Ginny?"

Harry transfixed a steadfast look onto the brunette across from her. "Ginny is like a sister to me. Plus, it'd just be weird."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you two will end up together some day, whether you like it or not."

Harry's eyes widened. "What makes you so sure of that?!"

"It's classic literature, Harry. Trust me. The hero always falls in love with the girl that is in love with him. Or rather, in this case, the girl will get the hero." Hermione stood up. "You'll see." She winked and then started to walk off, calling back over her shoulder. "Don't think you've avoided the lecture! You do not simply hit people, Harry!"

Harry groaned, slumping in her seat.

Hermione was wrong though. This time, the hero would not get the girl.

Rather, the hero would get no one; only a cold and lonely bed to return home to.

Suddenly left with no appetite, Harry pushed her plate away and stood. Ron turned to her, a questioning look on his face.

"Where ya going, mate?"

"To get some fresh air. All this talk about love is making me queasy."

Ron laughed gaily, shaking his head. "Only you, Harry."

Harry returned his smile with a fake one of her own and turned quickly to begin her exit.

On her way, she slowed down her pace upon seeing Draco Malfoy entering the Great Hall with a newly healed nose. Upon seeing her, the prat smirked, a mirthful glow in his eyes. He raised his head and called out, "Watch your back, Potter! This isn't over!"

Harry only stood flabbergasted as he and his friends walked past towards the Slytherin table, leaving Harry to wonder why he was in such a good mood after what she had done. Surely, he would have been infuriated?

Leaving the Hall, Harry pondered over the events that had just transpired. A Malfoy in a good mood never meant good things to come. It was evident that he had not told any of the professors and even if they had heard the news by now, none of them had done anything. How had she gotten away with this one?

It was her lone footsteps that echoed along the empty halls and she found herself outside, drawn to the tree beside of the Great Lake.

The air was cold and dry, the skies covered with grayish white clouds that threatened to burst and shower the world with its icy fruit.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Harry sat down at the base of the tree and stared out over the expanse of the murky waters.

So, this was how she was to spend her Valentine's day, huh? Alone by the lake.

A sudden screech from above interrupted her thoughts and she saw an unfamiliar bird flying towards her. Watching silently as it landed, she took in its beauty and responded when it dropped a letter into her lap.

Watching the bird, a hawk she thought, carefully, she reached out to stroke its feathers. It leaned into her touch before hopping back. It then spread its mighty wingspan and took off, back into the sky and flying gracefully away.

Looking down at the envelope in her lap, Harry suddenly grew weary. Would this be a love letter from a love-struck girl? Or maybe a sickly poem?

Tentatively unfolding it, her brow furrowed upon seeing the elegant script upon the yellowed parchment.

 _Potter,_

 _While I do agree that you deserve some form of punishment for your little charade from earlier, I also believe that I should be the one teaching you a lesson. Therefore, you'll get away with this one on the professor standpoint, Potter. However, I would watch my back if I were you. You never know what dangers could be lurking in the shadows. And unlike you, Potter, I will not resort to such uncivilized physical ways. Instead, I will retaliate with an attack of much higher class._

 _After all, I don't hit girls, Potter._

 _Malfoy_

Harry couldn't help but crack a smile at the pompous prat's use of words.

She tilted her head back against the tree and laughed. "If only you knew, Malfoy. If only you knew."

* * *

A/N: **I am looking for someone to help with the ideas, plot, and grammar. If you are interested, please let me know :)  
**

 **I look forward to posting the next chapter soon.**

 **~Scarlet**


	2. Chapter Two: Clever Girl

A/N: **See end of chapter for notes.**

 **A big thank you to Basium1 for looking over the chapter.**

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 _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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Secrets

Chapter Two:  
"Clever Girl"

12/03/16  
_

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 _"According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scars than almost anything else."_  
-J.K Rowling

* * *

While Harry knew that she should be worried as to what the young Malfoy heir had in mind, she also couldn't help but feel relieved.

Even though their relationship was one of mutual dislike and violence, the Slytherin was really the only one who treated her as a normal guy… and that's exactly how she wanted it.

Sure, she was still mildly miserable, but the letter had done well to take her mind off things.

Harry was so thankful that she enjoyed the confused looked that befell the Slytherin's face in passing when she casually called out, "Thanks, Malfoy, you sodding prat!"

She couldn't help but giggle at the mild hint of worry that briefly flickered beneath his glowering mask. He thought that she too was up to something and she may have well has been considering the circumstances. After all, it wasn't every day that Harry Potter casually thanked his arch nemesis, Draco Malfoy, after punching him square in the face earlier that morning.

It was then that she found herself mulling over a potion's essay while sometimes looking to her left to snag peaks at all the couples that made their way to and from Hogsmeade.

She grimaced, frowning at their loving display. She turned to the snowy white owl that sat beside of her. Harry let her fingers dance over the soft, downy feathers, smiling at the coo the owl let out.

"At least I've got you, Hedwig."

Hedwig hooted in affirmation, nudging against her hand. Harry giggled softly, stroking her animal friend.

Harry looked up and out of the window by which she sat, glancing down upon the grounds of Hogwarts. The snow had begun to fall and there was now a light dusting covering the browned grass.

While she knew she had friends who would be there to support her, she also couldn't help but to feel… lonely.

It was this pit inside of her; a deep, dark pit that ached and burned, begging to be filled and satisfied.

Harry knew it was selfish of her, to want more when she was already gifted with wonderful friends, but there was just this aching emptiness inside of her that burned, begging to be filled. And she wanted to fill that hole because it hurt.

Harry let out a groan of frustration, falling back to lean against the cold rock wall behind her.

"I'm such a girl," she muttered, closing her eyes before looking up at the ceiling.

She studied it intensely before shifting her eyes to rest them upon her owl who cocked her head in turn. There was a slight tug Harry's lips and she smiled slightly before sighing.

"What would I do without you?"

Harry then looked down at her potions essay and pursed her lips. It was an essay on a simple polyjuice potion and Harry firmly believed Snape had chosen this potion to torture the poor Gryffindors who completely lacked any skill for the profession-herself included.

The assignment was to write an essay describing its uses and features, and to include an in depth step-by-step on how to correctly produce it. This part, while frustratingly boring, was the easy part. It was the next step that Harry dreaded.

They had to brew it.

Even though the Gryffindor trio had brewed such before in second year to help them sneak into the den of snakes, Harry had no part in helping. The potion was purely Hermione, who was a genius for a witch her age.

It was safe to say that potion making wasn't a gift that Harry possessed. Most of her concoctions seemed to end up being a hot mess that bubbled over and resulted in a deduction of house points.

Groaning, she raised a hand to rub at her eyes from underneath her glasses. They were strained from staring at the parchment for far too long.

Hermione would be proud. It wasn't always that Harry spent the entirety of a day locked away in a dark room to complete her essay; her potions essay at that. It was not only that, but Harry had put effort into this essay.

Potions homework was horrid work, but it was horridly good at taking her mind off things. She was almost done and she would eat the Sorting Hat if Snape didn't gape in shock at her intellectual phrasing and neat organization.

If it took her doing her potions essay to take her mind off the things that were bothering her, so be it.

Harry stretched, grimacing at the stiffness in her neck-a result from hunching over her essay for so long. Looking out of the window, she was pleased to note that the sun was on its way to setting, signaling that it was nearly time for dinner.

Rolling her essay up, Harry stood and turned to Hedwig who seemed to understand. The snowy owl jumped and flew up to her companion and rested upon Harry's shoulder. Hedwig gave a nip of affection to the girl's chin and then flew off and out of the window that Harry opened.

Harry watched her go, a soft smile playing on her lips, before turning and collecting her items.

She was in the dormitory, alone. She placed her gathered things in her trunk before cautiously looking around.

Harry was alone, but that didn't mean anything when someone could easily walk into the room at any moment.

Her breasts were aching and begging for release, her menstrual still days away from ending. Raising a hand to gently rub at them, she winced before standing. She couldn't take the risk.

The pain was minimum, a discomfort that she could and would bear. The only relief would be to take the wrappings and charms off, but it was such a time-consuming task to wrap them back up that if someone were to stumble into the room, she would be caught.

And so, with the fear of being caught weighing heavily upon her mind, Harry surrendered and left the room to head to dinner.

* * *

There weren't many students gathered for dinner in the Great Hall, as most were still "hitting the town" and enjoying romantic dinners with their dates.

It was with a mighty sigh that Harry sat herself at her house table and began to eat in solitude.

Many minutes had passed and she had yet to see the appearance of any of her friends. Hermione, she knew, was on a date with Theodore Nott, no doubt trying her best to make Ron jealous. And Ron, oblivious as ever, was probably with a girl, not trying, but succeeding, at making Hermione jealous.

There was a storm brewing and Harry could feel it coming. She would be caught right in the middle of it.

Groaning at the future prospect, Harry downed her glass of pumpkin juice before moving on to push at the peas lined on her plate. She honestly didn't know why she got them. She didn't like peas.

'Poor peas,' she thought, 'hardly anyone wants you as well. Maybe I am a pea.'

She was suddenly startled out of her reverie when an atrocious sound of high pitched squealing caught her attention.

Her head swiveled in the direction of the noise to find Pansy Parkinson, giggling and squealing, completely draped over the Malfoy heir. Draco Malfoy did not look amused; rather, he was frowning-a look that oddly did not suit his charming face.

Harry scoffed and mentally berated herself. The potions essay must have gotten to her head. Malfoy was in no way charming. He was a spoiled prat that did nothing but to make her life miserable.

Pursing her lips, Harry looked once more down at her rejected peas before giving up and pushing the plate away from her.

She placed her chin on her hand, looking around the room with bored yet expectant eyes. Her thoughts drifted and she soon found herself caught in a daydream of sorts-something she was never given the leisure of having.

She must have sat there, staring off into space, for perhaps a couple of minutes before she was jerked suddenly out of her reverie when a hand was placed upon her shoulder.

Startled, she swung around to face the culprit, only to find none other than the Slytherin Prince himself.

Draco Malfoy stared down at her with a smug expression upon his face. "Scared you from your romantic daydream, did I, Potter?"

Immediately frowning, Harry bit back a scathing remark and instead replied with the obvious, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco placed a hand upon his chest, a mock expression of hurt plastered upon his pale, handsome face. "I'm hurt, Potter. Why must you always assume I want something? May I merely exchange conversation?"

Harry narrowed her eyes before turning away from the fifth year Slytherin. "You always want something, Malfoy. Now go away before I slug you again."

There was a deep chuckle behind her and the sound of footsteps. Harry mentally cheered before she heard the scrape of a chair and the sight of Draco sitting down across from her.

She cursed her choice to sit at the end of Gryffindor table.

The Great Hall, even filled with a few number of students, fell silent. All eyes were upon them, watching intently and waiting for the event they hoped would transpire.

Harry glared at her unwanted guest.

"Now, don't be like that, Scarhead. I've simply come to talk."

Harry scoffed. "Since when do you ever want to talk, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked. "Touche."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry leaned back and crossed her arms. "Is this some form of payback?"

"Clever girl."

Harry's eyes widened, heart pounding frantically in her chest. Her mind was slow to process the insult. Realization set in and Harry calmed. It was an insult, nothing more.

The smirk, however, did not go away.

"You see, Potter, a Malfoy always gets what they want."

Harry rolled her eyes. "And your point is?

Draco chuckled, the sound unfamiliar. Why was he amused?

Suddenly, a folded piece of parchment was being slid across the table. Harry stared at the object unblinkingly.

"It won't bite."

"With you it may as well."

"Honestly, Potter. I'm not stupid enough to hex you in front of the professors. What do you take me for? Go on. I know you're just dying of curiosity."

Harry reached for the note, eyeing it with a sinking suspicion. She opened it and read the well-scripted words.

 _Astronomy Tower._

Harry frowned before looking back up at the smirking blond.

"Be there, Potter. You'll regret it otherwise."

He stood and with a flutter of his robes, he was striding away, shoulders squared.

Harry watched him go, brow furrowed. The Hall was still silent, save for the echo of the Slytherin's footsteps, but as soon as he reached his table, whispering broke out.

Harry ignored simply ignored it and instead turned to the note, flipping it over and looking at it.

She examined it, but soon found a problem.

"Bloody prat. How am I supposed to meet you if you don't tell me where and when?" She grumbled under her breath.

She spared a glance back at the Slytherin and froze when emerald met piercing silver. They held eye contact for a moment, neither blinking or looking away.

Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened as the blonde's eyes seemed to begin glow an almost unnatural shade of gray. She blinked furiously, believing it to be a trick of the light.

The blonde cocked his head to the side as in confusion. Harry realized she had been staring and was about to turn away when the Slytherin suddenly smirked. Harry pressed her lips into a thin line when she realized the confusion had been false.

Draco raised an eyebrow before turning away to his companion who had called his attention.

Harry turned, completely taken aback. What was that, just now. What was his game?

Shaking her head and thoroughly frustrated, Harry stood and quickly made her way towards the exit of the Great Hall, the note crumbled in her tight grasp.

She stormed down the hall, grumbling under her breath.

At her pace, it did not take her long to reach the Gryffindor common room and it was with a mighty grace that she threw herself onto the sofa, and groaned into the cushion.

Harry laid there for a moment, just breathing in the dusty smell of the sofa cushion. She then turned her head to watch the flames that danced jovially in the fireplace, although its warmth did not entirely reach her.

Her hand moved round the piece of parchment that still lay crumpled in her palm. Was she really going to go and meet him? Knowing the vain teen, she would never hear the end of it if she didn't show up. And despite not having a time or place, Harry decided that she would go, only so she would be saved from his boisterous complaining that would surely follow the next day.

So, she lay there, sure that the Slytherin had meant a later time. It was a Saturday and a holiday at that, but knowing the professors and some of the students at this school, an Astronomy class was surely being held at the top of the tower. So, it would not do good to meet there.

But if not there, then where?

Where did Malfoy want to meet?

Harry suddenly heard creaking followed by the sound of footsteps. There were loud shouts and yells reaching her ears and she winced at the female and male tones.

Hermione and Ron were at it again it seemed.

"You have no right to tell me who I can and can't date, Ronald Weasley!"

"Well I wouldn't have to if you actually had taste!"

"Taste? Taste?!"

"You go around, strutting and bloody flirting with Slytherins. Slytherins! They're snakes,

Hermione! They'll turn you over to You-Know-Who!"

"Not every Slytherin is a bad one! Get your prejudice head out of your arse!"

"Nott is a Death Eater!"

"You don't even know him!"

"I don't have to! His parents are Death Eaters! The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, you know!"

"I can't believe you!"

Harry groaned, throwing an arm over her ear, the other pressed against the cushion. She closed her eyes, trying desperately not to hear their bickering. She knew this was coming; she just wasn't fully prepared. Where was her ear plugs when she needed them?

She lay there for what seemed like forever, the shouting having cleared the common room, leaving her unnoticed on the sofa.

Soon, the muffled voices grew silent and there was a slam of something solid and a loud groan of frustration.

Tentatively removing the blockage over her ear, Harry raised her head to see Hermione standing only feet away, staring silently at nothing.

Shakily, almost afraid, Harry called out to her friend. "Hermione?"

Jumping, startled, Hermione swung to look at Harry who peaked over the top of the sofa back. Her eyes suddenly softened and she looked down at her shoes, seeming almost embarrassed.

"You hear all that?"

Harry forced a laugh. "How could I not. I'm pretty sure the Slytherins could have heard you all the way down in the dungeons."

Hermione let out a groan of frustration and something that Harry could not detect as she walked over to the couch on which Harry part-way laid upon. Harry scrambled up, quick to make room for the intelligent which that plopped down upon the cushion beside of her.

Licking her lips, unsure of what to say, Harry opened her mouth to speak. "I take it he didn't like the idea of you and Nott together?"

Hermione turned her head and looked tiredly at her. "Of course, he didn't. Ugh, he makes my blood boil." Her demeanor suddenly changed to tired and weary. "What am I supposed to do, Harry? Why must I feel this way?"

Harry's eyes softened as she gazed at her friend. "He's dense, Hermione. You know that as well as I. Ron just doesn't know how to think before he speaks. He lets his emotions get the better of him."

"I know, but I don't know how much longer I can take this. Have you ever liked someone so much that your heart aches that when you're around them? And you're just waiting for them to ask you out, to confess and return your feelings, but every chance you give them, every rope you hand them, they simply turn you away. It hurts, Harry. It really hurts."

Harry let out a soft sigh before holding her arms out. Hermione greatly leaned into her, allowing her to wrap her arms around her. Harry held her close, resting her chin upon her head.

It was a friendly gesture, a comforting measure.

"I don't know what to tell you, Hermione. You know I'm no good in these sorts of situations."

Hermione remained silent before speaking softly. "Tell me to move on." It was barely a whisper.

Harry pursed her lips, staring into the flames of the fire.

"I only want for the both of you to be happy."

The common room was quiet after that save for the whispering of the crackling fire.

* * *

It was just a quarter past nine when Harry remembered the note. Looking towards Hermione who lay curled up on the couch, fast asleep, Harry could not find it in herself to disturb her. So, instead of waking her, she grabbed a blanket and gently draped it over her sleeping form.

Stepping back from the couch, Harry gave one last look to her friend before heading towards the exit of the common room. She stopped before the way to the dormitory, wistfully wishing for a cloak, but also not wanting to deal with the fiery temper of the red head.

So, instead of bundling up to stay warm, Harry left the common with only the clothes she wore; a baggy sweater and a loose pair of jeans.

The halls were dark and silent save for the echo of her footsteps.

Harry wrapped her arms around herself as she headed for the Astronomy tower, shivering slightly from the cool air.

By this time, everyone was tucked away in their house dorms, snug and warm by the fire. Harry momentarily wondered if listening to the blonde rattle on would be worth turning back. Instead of following through and heading back towards the call of warmth, Harry continued, telling herself that this had better be worth it.

It wasn't long before she reached the tower and the echo of voices that reached her ears notified her of the students at the top of the tower, no doubt having a late-night study session.

"Ravenclaws," she bet, mumbling under her breath.

Silently, she wondered through the tower, looking for any signs of platinum blonde hair. Once or twice did she swear she saw a flash of silver, disappearing as quickly as it came. She took her glasses off and hurriedly cleaned them. It was dark, she was tired, and she was seeing things that weren't there.

Finding a nicely illuminated spot by the moonlight near a window, Harry leaned back against the wall and let out a tired sigh. Her breath ghosted before her face in soft cloud of white.

Reaching into her pocket, the icy flesh of her hand grasped the crumpled parchment and pulled out into the lunar light.

She stared at it with unfixed eyes before looking up and away. Quietly, as if not to disturb the students at the top of the tower, she called out into the darkness before her.

"Malfoy!" she quietly hissed, eyes darting over of the shadows. "Malfoy!" She called louder.

There was no answer, only the quiet call of the wind.

So, she stood there waiting for any sign of the Slytherin, feeling as though she was slowly becoming a pillar of solid ice.

For a moment, she thought she heard his footsteps, but realized but a moment later that they belonged to the Ravenclaws above her who had just now finished with their late-night studying.

She slunk into the shadows and watched as their silhouetted forms walked past her and down into the abyss.

She waited until they were gone to call out again.

"Malfoy!"

There was no answer.

Growling, Harry clenched her chattering teeth. This was ridiculous. Was his revenge a plot for her to freeze to death?

There was a sudden clatter to her left and her swiveled on her feet, wand out and a muffled shriek stuck in her throat. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest and she cursed when she found that it was only an owl, watching her silently from the old armor of a statue.

Grumbling, she stuck her wand back in her pocket and stuffed her hands under her armpits.

She waited until she could no longer feel her toes in her shoes. Groaning, Harry moved sluggishly away from the window.

She had been stood up.

She had fallen for his little scheme _again_ , just as she had in first year.

Her frozen body ached with each movement and she almost cried out in pain at the stiffness of her muscles.

Harry hurriedly moved through the deserted halls, ducking and weaving, trying desperately to make it back to the common room before she was caught.

Thankfully she made it with only one close call.

The warmth of the room assaulted her and her flesh burned at the touch of heat. Hissing, Harry quickly snuck into the dorm where she simply collapsed in her bed, tugging frantically at the sheets to pull them tightly around herself.

' _The prat will pay dearly for this.'_ She thought as she shivered violently, curling up and desperately trying to warm the feeling back into her frozen fingers and toes.

She desperately wanted a warm shower, but knew the hot water would burn badly when it met the ice that was her flesh. So instead, she lay there, staring out into the darkness. Some of the boys were still downstairs by the fire, too busy telling each other about their great romantic exploits and unable to sleep due to the excitement that still rushed through their veins.

Ron was still in his bed across from hers and Harry stared at his rigid back. From the distance, she could not tell if he was still awake, or simply in a deep sleep, controlled by the anger that still plagued him.

Ron was a good friend at times, but his temper and jealousy were his undoing. Harry wished to help him, but she knew nothing she said would reach him. Ron was a thick Gryffindor, through and through, and even though they prided themselves for their bravery, Harry admitted that most them were not the brightest of the bunch; Ron being one of them.

It was hard to tell a Gryffindor something when they had already set their minds to something. Harry was one of them and knew she was as stubborn as they came. However, Ron was even more so and trying to talk to him would be exactly like talking to an inanimate brick wall.

So, she refrained from calling out to him to see if he was indeed still awake, even though she wanted desperately to try and patch things between her two friends. Harry knew though that they would have to work things out themselves-even if it took forever.

' _Love really is blind,_ ' Harry supposed.

It was obvious to everyone around them, the feelings that the two harbored for each other. However, when it came to them, they were oblivious and blind as bats to the other's feelings.

Harry hoped their eyes would be opened soon, for all their sakes.

Warmth was slowly seeping back into her limbs and she grimaced at the pinprick sensation that started up. A sleepiness was started to overcome her and even though she was still shivering, she felt compelled to close her eyes.

The day's events had left her exhausted.

Tomorrow it was likely that she would hear the blonde's laughter and the malicious words he would no doubt throw at her, but for now Harry wanted only to sleep.

It was with that last thought that Harry fell into a deep slumber, plagued with visions of silver irises and a dark, eerie glow.

* * *

A/N: I had planned to have this chapter posted Sunday afternoon, but around 1:30 pm, my Dad found my uncle, who had been living with us for a couple of months now, unresponsive on the bathroom floor. It was probable that he had been without air for about 20 minutes before we found him, but my Dad and I took turns giving him CPR anyways until the ambulance arrived. He is currently on life support and unless the doctors find any signs of brain activity soon, they will take him off of it later today. If you believe in God, I ask that you pray for him and his soul. I know that I am certainly praying for a miracle.

 **IMPORTANT**

Drugs are a horrible thing. He had been clean for almost a year now and we don't know why he turned back to them. He took the usual dosage, but it had been laced with enough poison to kill a horse. We are unsure as to if he knew this, or merely thought he was just "shooting up". Please. Don't be stupid and make this same mistake. If you think that you are cool for using drugs and think that there is no harm in them, I wish I could show you the image of my uncle on the bathroom floor, his face pale and his lips turning an unnatural shade of blue. He is 29 years old. **DO NOT** make this same mistake and take your own chance of a long life away by using these killing substances. Yes, they may make you look "cool", but one mistake is all that it takes. Wise up. No good can ever come from drugs.


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